


worship

by stellarmads



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hanni worships Will, Intense fluff, M/M, You might cry, presmut but not really, will kind of likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10095377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmads/pseuds/stellarmads
Summary: Hannibal worships Will like the masterpiece he is. Will enjoys it.





	

There are times when Will wakes and finds Hannibal staring at him, a sort of nervous energy filling the room. Something that doesn't belong to Hannibal, but instead an invasive root that wraps itself around the man's mind, taking deep hold for days on end.

Today was one of those times.

Will could feel it before he even opened his eyes. A heavy thrumming through the room, fast and erratic, as Will imagines Hannibal's heart is beating. He stretches first, pulling out the muscles that have worked themselves tight in his fitful sleep, before opening his eyes no farther than a thin squint. The man beside him is not the man that he tugged off the cliff. Warm maroon eyes study him, awestruck and glistening, like a blind man seeing the light for the first time. Hannibal's breath is unsteady, and as he lifts a hand to rest against Will's cheek, it trembles. A tightness squeezes Will's chest. To speak would crack whatever mould has formed itself around Hannibal's mind, and so he just stares back, blinking slowly.

Hannibal's hand explores like he's never touched Will before. As if they have not spent many nights taking each other apart, learning and relearning every angle and curve. Two fingers press gently against the scar on his forehead, tracing it, before moving lower, down over his nose. A thumb comes to rest on his lower lip, pushing slightly, and so Will closes his eyes and parts his lips ever so slightly, just enough that it pushes in. Will hears Hannibal's breath hitch, a small noise like a choked back sob tearing its way up his throat. The hand is withdrawn, only to come to rest on his bare chest. Will knows he's feeling his heart, steady and strong. When he opens his eyes, tears are streaming down the other man's face. His chest heaves and when he speaks, his accent is so thick that Will wonders for a minute if he's even speaking English.

“You are more worthy of worship than any deity man has thought up.”

Will wonders if he should feel embarrassed. It's intoxicating, the waves of devotion Hannibal is emitting. He feels powerful, and it is not hard to imagine how God feels striking down his own followers, in his own house. An echo of a memory, a low strike of pain somewhere deep in his chest, before Hannibal speaks again.

“I would die for you.”

He is lovely like this. More dangerous than any mind Will has fallen into, more beautiful than any design Will has witnessed. But Will does not need him like, does not want this man docile, bowing at his every step. He snakes his own hand down to intertwine his fingers with his husband's, pressing small kisses against the raised line running up his wrist, watching Hannibal's pupils blow so wide that the red is all but swallowed. Desire finally burns away the last of the parasitic vines slithering around them.

“You already have.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a work since 2013 (no joke!) and the first time I've felt confident in what I'm posting. Please feel free to leave comments and point out any grammatical errors!


End file.
